


revelation 20:13

by MAUELM



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, F/M, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, Multi, Zombie Apocalypse, set in New York
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAUELM/pseuds/MAUELM
Summary: "And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done."It had been four days since the world ended.At least, that was what Grantaire had assumed happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alright, first chapter! it's short and sweet, basically just exposition. from here on out it'll be a lot more in-depth!

It had been four days since the world ended.

At least, that was what Grantaire had assumed happened.

It started on a chilly October Thursday, the type of day where it seems like nothing extraordinary will happen. Of course, those days had a tendency to lend themselves to chaos. As usual, Grantaire had been at his favorite cafe, sipping coffee and sketching. He wasn't sketching anything in particular; every inch of that cafe was already in his sketchbook, so he doodled little shapes, stars, scribbles, letting his fingers swirl along the paper as he people watched, silently observing the various worlds of others around him- there was a couple a few tables down from him; one man tall, dark, and lithe, with a pair of tortoiseshell glasses sipping down his long nose as he leaned towards the other man, shorter, lighter, thicker, with a wild head of shiny dark curls and eyes that glimmered with mischief. The two leaned across the table to be closer, hands holding each other's. They smiled slyly and giggled amongst themselves.

Across from them were four college kids, crowded around a small circular table. Two of the three men- one short, thin, with raven hair and olive skin, fiddling with the handle of a cane, the other not much taller with a significant lack of hair, emphasizing the brown skin on the top of his head- were leaning against a woman with an afro so black that it appeared red when it caught the light. She caressed both of them with equal, amorous attention, an action that caused the last man, frighteningly tall and intimidatingly buff, with a well-groomed beard and a myriad of tattoos that he has rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt to show off, to laugh rapturously, banging his fists on the table.

That's when a man walked in, blood streaked across his pale face, as well as his khaki pants, the kind construction workers wear. His hair, which had once been under a hat, had partially come loose, and he was, understandably, panicked. He shut the door and locked it, pressing his back against the glass, as if trying to keep whatever had been outside from coming in.

"Hell." Was all he said.

"What happened, honey?" The mild-mannered barista, the one that Grantaire always liked, hurried around the counter and towards the blood-soaked man, approaching like one would an injured deer. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no, not hurt." The man slides down to sit on the floor, shaking visibly. "People are dying."

"What are you talking about?" The bespectacled half of the couple at the table asked.

"There's something..." The man points towards the outside, eyes welling with tears. "Something's going on. So many people are dying. So much blood."

"Was there some kind of attack?" The bearded man asks.

"I don't know." The trembling man shakes his head, hiding his face in his knees.

The barista steps around him to peer out the window of the other door. As if on cue, a face, grey and dripping with blood, smashed up against the glass. Whoever- or whatever- it was thrashed against the glass, smearing it with red. Behind, people began running down the street, screaming and looking behind them, clearly being followed by something. Suddenly, the thing banging against the glass turned and lunged a few feet away, grasping onto the back of a woman who was running. The thing then took a massive bite out of her shoulder, feasting on her flesh. The woman seized for a few moments on the ground before falling still, dead. A few other creatures descended upon her body, joining the feast.

Instantly, there were more people at the door- a woman banging ferociously on the glass. She doesn't appear to be whatever that last creature was, no, she's very much alive, tears streaming down her face, catching her curls on her cheeks.

"Let us in!" She screams, banging her fists on the glass.

"Hell no!" The bearded man exclaims, moving to push a table against the door, barricading it.

"Fuck!" The woman screeches. "Please!"

"No shot!" The man who had been on the floor stands up, screaming back.

Then a man steps forward, gently nudging the woman away from the door. He's pale and freckled with a head of copper curls. There's blood splattered across the chest of his flannel shirt, and he has a gentler face, though still deeply disturbed. "Please," he begs, voice cracking, "we have a kid with us."

Grantaire hustles over to the door and peers downwards. Crouching at the feet of the woman, hand over his ears and eyes wide with fear, is a young boy, maybe eleven or twelve. Grantaire huffs and shoves the bloodied man out of the way, unlocking and opening the door just enough for the three to stumble inside. He re-locks the door and helps the bearded man barricade the door.

"Is anyone bit?" The woman asks, pulling her jacket tighter around her small frame.

There's a collective 'no', and the bloodied man, the woman, the young boy, and the man who came with them are seated at the table. The barista gives them all a cup of water to help them calm down.

"What the fuck is happening out there?" The bespectacled man's other half questions, voice wild and high.

The young boy swallows down his water and looks up, black eyes swimming in tears. "The end of the world, dude."


	2. Chapter 2

_7 days in_

"We have a problem." Combeferre clasps his hands in front of him, addressing the others who he has gathered around him. "We're running out of food. Fast."

They're in the back room of the cafe, the safest place for them- no windows; two doors, one to the front of the store and one to the back alley; a table and a set of chairs; a mini-fridge; a tiny washroom off to the side. It's their hideaway for now- the windows and doors in the dining area have actually held up (much to their surprise), but the back room is smaller, which, for some reason, makes them all feel safer, less exposed, like they don't have to keep their backs against the wall.

"The store only kept so much non-perishable stuff," Jehan says, fiddling with the end of their braid. "And all of the fresh stuff is going to turn soon. We have plenty of water and a couple of fresh sandwiches that won't go bad for a few more days, but that's about it."

"There's a bodega down the street." Eponine offers. "We could try and strike out there."

Combeferre points at her. "My thoughts exactly." He says. "But listen; this is really, really dangerous. We still don't know... Anything about this, really. Nothing at all. We don't know how it spreads- I mean, we know they bite."

"It's probably a rabies-like virus." Joly says. Since the first day, he'd spent hours at the windows in the main room, much to Bossuet and Musichetta's dismay. "I've seen it happen- first you get bitten. Then, if you're not turned into a buffet for other creatures, you become one, too. It only takes about an hour for it to happen."

"Whatever they are," Feuilly shakes his head, "they're out for blood."

"Right," Combeferre sighs, putting his hands on his hips. "We need food, plain and simple. Any I'm sure the bodega has resources- medical supplies, means of protection, however small, are valuable."

"So we're going." Courfeyrac says, deadpan.

"Not all of us, no." Combeferre shakes his head. "In fact, I think it's better than a very small group goes- maybe three or four- at least at first, until we can establish a sense of security, until we know what we're doing out there."

Bahorel stand up. "I'll go."

"Same here," Grantaire makes for the back door. He dumps out the contents of his bag onto the table, making room for whatever he can collect.

"Me, too." Eponine joins him, tugging her jacket on.

"If Ep is going, so am I." Gavroche says.

"Um, no." Eponine puts her hand on the top of his head. "You're gonna stay here. No matter what."

Gavroche whines. "Oh, come on! I can take whatever those things are, let me at 'em." He offers a few half-hearted punches into the air.

"You're staying here. Final." Eponine says, with a glare that means business. Gavroche sticks his tongue out but concedes, slumping into a chair. Eponine levels her eyes at Marius. "Keep an eye on him. He stays here."

"Alright," Marius mutters, wringing his hands, "I really don't think this is a good idea, Eponine."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself out there?" She jokes trying to lighten the mood as the others prepare by the door.

"No, of course I do. But... What if you get hurt? Gavroche needs you, and you're my friend. It just feels like too big of a risk."

She softens, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine." She assures, touched at his sentiments (though she'd never admit it). "I'll be back with more canned ravioli and stale cereal than you can handle."

They scrounge up a few weapons- Bahorel's pocket knife, a baseball bat the store keeps for security, and a fire extinguisher. "Don't be afraid to use them." Musichetta snorts, seemingly amused.

"Knock five times when you come back, so I know it's you." Jehan unlocks the back door and lets them out, immediately shutting it behind them.

Outside isn't the disaster movie scene they had been anticipating. Instead it's empty, desolate, and eerily silent. Thick grey clouds hang low in the sky, threatening rain. A massive plume of smoke is billowing somewhere against the skyline behind the row of apartment buildings adjacent to the shop. There's no wind, not even a breeze, but the air is ice-cold and instantly settles into their skin, chilling them to the bone.

Eponine looks one way down the alley, then the other. "Coast is clear." She says, keeping her voice low. "Let's get a move on."

They head right down the alley, keeping their footsteps quick and light, trying to be as quiet and undetectable as possible. They come to the end of the alley and turn onto the road where the shops are. The bodega is just on the opposite corner, so they quickly jog across the street. the doors are shut and the lights off, and it seems as though it hasn't been touched since the chaos began.

Grantaire pulls on the door handle, but it's locked. All three of them suck in an anxious breath, now nervous that their expedition may not turn out to be as fruitful as they thought.

"Fuck it." Grantaire mutters under his breath. "You two ready? We're gonna get in and out as fast as possible."

The others nod, steeling themselves for what's about to come. Grantaire rears back and smashes the glass door with his bat. The sound is deafening compared to the silence of the rest of the world, and Eponine pulls the sleeves over her jackets over her hands, punching the remaining glass out of the way. 

They hurry into the store and spread out- Bahorel to medical supplies, Eponine to hunt for any sort of weapons or protection, and Grantaire, with the largest of the bags, on food. He runs over to the back of the store and begins rapidly shoving food into his bag- boxes of granola bars, canned soup, packages of applesauce and pudding. He packs as much variety as he can and squeezes his bag closed, almost unable to zip it up. He's about to run over to help Eponine who has apparently found something of interest behind the counter when something catches his eye, the familiar slope of the bottle catching the grey light. Barefoot Moscato. He's not really a fan of white, but it's better than nothing. He kneels down to try and shove it into his bag.

"Grantaire!" Bahorel shouts, much louder than any of them have dared to be. Grantaire stands and whips around ready to chastise him for being so loud, but he comes nearly face-to-face with a person- or, at least, it used to be. He's an old man, tall and thin, with a murky blue windbreaker that has grey sludge dripping down the front of it. The face is stark white and blue in places, the eyes milky and unseeing. There's flesh between his teeth and his hands are coated in dried blood as they reach for Grantaire.

"shit shit shit shit shit," Grantaire gulps, backing up against the wall. The creature isn't very fast but he's scary as hell, making this choked-out gurgling sound as he courners Grantaire. The stench of death rolls off of him, making Grantaire gag. He's in the very corner of the shop now, pressing his back against the wall, palms flat and sweating. He holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut, terrified of what it will feel like have his flesh ripped from the bone.

"Aw, fuck!" Bahorel cries and makes for the thing, swinging his blade out. He puts all of his strength into his arm and brings the blade down on the crown of the man's head. It feels strangely hollow and crisp, like papier-mache. The man makes a sound like he's drowning and collapses to the ground with a sickening crunch. He spits up the same black, congealed blood that spills from the stop of his head and jerks a few times before falling still, finally, truly dead.

"Bro," Bahorel puts his hand on Grantaire's back, "you okay?"

Grantaire nods rapidly, swallowing down his fear. "Yeah, yeah. Thank you."

"No problem. I think it's time we split."

"Fuck yeah."

They meet Eponine at the front of the store, assuring each other they're okay. They're all white in the face, trembling and panting with fear and relief. Feeling more or less sure they've gotten enough for their first venture. They exit through the hole in the door and immediately are faced with maybe a half dozen of the creatures, trudging towards them. They're a bit faster than the one in the store. Eponine instinctively lets off a blast of the fire extinguisher against their faces, which startles them and slows them down enough for Grantaire to take swings at them.

"Aim for the head!" Bahorel yells, and Grantaire complies, bashing them against the skull once, twice at most. When they get too close, Eponine shoots at them again, and they come to a routine where Eponine slows them down so that Grantaire can take them out.

Eventually they're standing in the middle of the road, surrounded by bodies of the undead, heads bashed in. They look at each other with shock and exhaustion. There doesn't seem to be any more creatures around, so they slowly step over the bodies and support each other as they begin walking back to the alley.

Suddenly there's a loud bang that must be a gunshot, followed by much yelling and screaming, a struggle, and another shot. Wordlessly the three take off running down the alley, holding onto their loot and each other as they bolt towards the back door of the cafe.

With a trembling fist, Eponine knocks hard five times like Jehan had told them to. A few agonizingly long moments pass in silence with no response for the door, so Eponine knocks again, even harder this time, and it's a wonder her knuckles don't bleed. They hear the lock click and the door flies open. They throw their bags inside and crowd in, and just as Jehan moves to close and lock the door once again they all hear a scream.

"Help!" A terrified voice cries, ragged and fearful. "Somebody please! Help!"

Jehan, Grantiare, and Combeferre peek out the door and down the alley. To the right, following the same path that Bahorel, Eponine, and Grantaire had taken, is a woman, running towards them as best she can. She's hauling a man with her, his arm around her shoulders and head dropped against his chest, barely conscious. There's an alarming amount of blood spilling from his shoulder.

"Please help!" The woman sobs, limping towards the door. "My brother... They got him! They got my brother!"

Eponine, overhearing this, reaches into her bag and pulling out, to the surprise of everyone, a small handgun. She steps out the door and aims the gun squarely at the pair. "He's bit?"

"NO!" The woman screams, crying and raising her free hand in self-defense. "We're not bit, either of us... They shot my brother."

"Who shot your brother?" Eponine asks, gun still trained on them.

"These thugs, they were at the inn down the street- we went in to see if they had any food, anything... They shot him! Please! You have to help him!"

Eponine lowers the gun, but keeps her finger on the trigger. "Did they see you come this way?"

"No." The woman shakes her head vigorously. "We lost them a few blocks ago."

Eponine steps out of the way of the door. "Okay. Get in."

The woman hauls her brother into the cafe and Bossuet grabs him. He's losing more and more consciousness by the moment, he's mumbling nonsense under his breath and he can't support his own weight anymore. Courfeyrac helps the woman over to a chair so she can sit while Feuilly helps Bossuet lay the man across the table.

Joly looks to the woman from his place at her brother's side. "I'm a doctor." He says, trying to be assuring. Grantaire notices he looks grave but not completely hopeless, which is optimistic compared to what he's feeling right now. He's at the opposite end of the table by the unconscious man's side. He jumps a little when he feels something in his hand and looks down to see it's the hand of the man. Grantaire squeezes, willing him to stay alive.

"Combeferre, Bossuet, I'd like your help if you don't mind, and Jehan, since you know where to find supplies around here." Joly says, appraising the man. "I'm going to need space and quiet. I think the rest of you should go out into the cafe." He looks back to the woman. "Are you hurt?"

"Just help him, please." The woman cries, though there's some blood leaking through her jeans from her right knee, and a few scrapes on her face and neck, probably from glass breaking.

"Come on, honey." Musichetta puts her arms around her and leads her out into the cafe with the rest. Grantaire collects the bags with the food and protection, leaving the one with medical supplies.

As soon as the room is cleared out, Joly turns to Jehan. "I need a hot plate, a knife, rubbing alcohol, clean cloths... Do you have a small skillet?"


End file.
